"Move out," Valdorn commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the lingering tension like a knife.
The mages scrambled to obey, extinguishing the ritual circles and gathering their tomes. The soldiers of the Royal Vanguard stepped aside, their armor clanking in unison, forming a steel corridor for the students to pass through.
Ren took a breath, the air tasting of stale incense and old stone, and forced his legs to move. Every step felt heavier than it should have. Maybe it was the gravity of this new world. Maybe it was the lingering shock of the summoning. Or maybe it was the invisible weight of the word that still seemed to hang over his head in golden letters. Hero.
He glanced down at his hands. They looked the same as they had this morning when he was tying his shoelaces in his bedroom. Same calluses from holding a pen, same small scar on his thumb from a cooking accident. But now, according to the black crystal, these hands were meant to kill a Demon Lord. It felt ridiculous. It felt terrifying.
As the class began to shuffle out of the chamber, the formation shifted naturally. Without anyone saying a word, the students gravitated toward the center, huddling together for safety. But the guards… they treated Ren differently. Two knights fell into step immediately beside him—not blocking him, but escorting him. They kept a respectful distance, their hands resting on their pommels, eyes scanning the shadows as if an assassin might jump out of the dungeon walls. Ren wanted to tell them to stop. He wanted to walk back with Itsuki and Daigo. But the gap between him and his friends was already there, enforced by steel and silence.
They ascended a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. The stone walls here were rough-hewn, damp with moisture, lit only by the occasional flickering torch. The only sounds were the scuffling of sneakers, the heavy tread of iron boots, and the low murmurs of confused teenagers.
"My phone's dead," someone whispered. "Mine too. No signal anyway." "Do you think my mom knows I'm gone?" "Don't cry, Chika. Please don't cry."
Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. He caught Rika's eye. She was walking a few paces behind him, flanked by Ayaka. Rika looked pale, her earlier bravado as a 'Rogue' fading now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She gave him a small, shaky smile. Ren tried to smile back, to look like the leader Valdorn said he was, but he felt like a fraud.
Finally, the stairs ended. They emerged from the gloom of the dungeon into a wide, vaulted hallway. The transition was blinding. Tall, arched windows lined the left wall, letting in streams of light that weren't quite yellow—more of a pale, amber gold. The floor changed from rough stone to polished marble, intricate patterns of suns and stars inlaid in gold and lapis lazuli. Thick tapestries hung between the windows, depicting knights battling dragons and armies clashing under red skies.
Ren blinked, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. He looked out the nearest window, and his breath hitched. "Whoa…" The view was undeniable proof. They were not on Earth.
Below the castle sat a sprawling city of white stone and slate-grey roofs, winding around the base of the mountain like a serpent. Smoke rose from thousands of chimneys. Beyond the city walls, the landscape stretched out in vast, rolling plains of purplish-green grass, broken by jagged rock formations that defied physics, floating slightly above the ground. And in the sky… Two moons. One large and pale, shattered at the edge like a broken coin. The other small, red, and distant.
"It's real," Itsuki muttered, stepping up beside Ren to look out the glass. He adjusted his glasses, his face unreadable but his eyes sharp, analyzing everything. "Atmospheric composition seems breathable. Gravity is roughly 0.9 Gs. The architecture suggests a feudal society, but the floating rocks imply a high concentration of magnetic or magical ore." Ren looked at him. "You're taking this well." Itsuki shrugged, though his knuckles were white where he gripped the window ledge. "Panic is inefficient, Ren. We are here. We have roles. We simply need to survive the tutorial."
Ren turned away from the window, looking for the others. His eyes landed on the back of the group. The guards were looser back there. Less respectful. They herded the students forward with impatient gestures. Walking at the very rear was Sora.
He had his hands in his pockets, his posture slouched as if he were just walking to the convenience store. But Ren noticed how he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding eye contact with the knights who sneered as he passed. Daigo and Riku had dropped back to walk with him.
"Seriously though," Daigo was saying, his voice a low rumble. "Zero mana? Like, actually zero? Maybe the machine was busted." Sora shrugged, a motion that looked too casual to be real. "Machine seemed fine when it gave Ren the holy light show. I think I'm just special, Daigo. Exclusively defective." "Don't say that," Daigo frowned, slapping Sora on the back—gentler than usual, but it still made Sora stumble. "Maybe you're a late bloomer. Like in those manga where the guy is weak but then unlocks a cheat skill later."
Riku, who was walking on Sora's other side, snorted. He was fiddling with his phone, using the black screen to check his reflection. "Cope harder, Daigo. Valdorn called him a 'rat.' Usually, the rat dies first in the horror movie." "You're an ass, Riku," Daigo snapped. "I'm a realist," Riku retorted, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced at Sora. "But... hey. If you need me to build you a mana-battery or something later, I guess I could try. My title is [Artificer], after all. I fix broken things."
Sora looked up, surprised. He gave a short, dry laugh. "Thanks, Riku. I'll let you know if I need a battery change." He looked tired. Not just physically, but deep down. The kind of tired that comes from being told you don't belong, over and over again.
Ren watched them, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. I should be back there, Ren thought. I should be walking with them, telling Sora it's going to be okay. But he couldn't. Sir Valdorn was at the front, setting a brisk pace, and Ren—the Hero—was expected to be at the front too. Every time Ren slowed down, the guards subtly urged him forward. The formation itself was a wall. Hero at the front. Failure at the back. The hierarchy had already been decided.
"Eyes forward, Hero," Valdorn said, not turning around. Ren straightened up, startled. "My name is Ren." "For now," Valdorn said. "But titles have a way of consuming names in this castle."
They turned a corner, and the hallway widened into a massive antechamber. At the far end stood a set of double doors that made the classroom doors look like toys. They were twenty feet tall, made of dark ironwood, and reinforced with bands of gold. Two statues of armored lions stood guard on either side. The Royal Vanguard stopped. The soldiers stamped their feet in unison, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
Valdorn turned to face the group. His helmet was tucked under his arm now, revealing his scarred face and steel-grey hair. He looked less like a monster and more like a weary general, but his eyes were still hard. "Beyond these doors is His Majesty, King Alaric IV," Valdorn announced. "You will show respect. You will speak only when spoken to. And you," his gaze flicked to the back of the room, piercing through the crowd to land on Sora, "you will stay in the shadows. Do not embarrass us."
Sora didn't flinch. He just leaned against a pillar and gave a lazy salute.
Ren clenched his fists at his sides. He's one of us, Ren wanted to shout. Stop treating him like that. But the heavy ironwood doors were already groaning open. Light spilled out from the Throne Room—brighter, warmer, and far more intimidating than anything they had seen so far. The sound of trumpets flared from inside.
"Enter," Valdorn commanded. Ren took a deep breath, stepped across the threshold, and walked into the heart of the kingdom that claimed to own them.